


We Are Not Alone

by jackintheboxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackintheboxx/pseuds/jackintheboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Breakfast Club-inspired AU. Five unlikely students are imprisoned together in a Saturday detention at Beacon Hills High School.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Naturally, some of the story-line and characters were tweaked to better fit. Just a friendly fore-warning, this won’t be a word-for-for, scene-by-scene Teen Wolf adaptation of The Breakfast Club. The movie was just used as a guideline, basically. 
> 
> If people enjoy this I will be more than happy to continue adding to it :)

__

_"And these children that you spit on_  
 _As they try to change their worlds_  
 _Are immune to your consultations_  
 _They're quite aware of what_  
 _They're going through"_

 

The set of keys jangled as Stiles passed them palm-to-palm nervously. He almost dropped them quite a few times, but the change of pace was a welcome distraction to his racing mind. Sure, he and Scott had gotten in trouble before. Sure, they might have bent the rules more than a few times. But _Saturday detention_? He’d almost rather sit in front of his father in an interrogation room. Almost.  


“It’s just one day,” offered Scott, half-hearted. “And at least we’re not by ourselves or something…” He skipped a few steps on his way up to the front doors of Beacon Hills High School.  


Stiles shot an aggravated expression to the back of Scott’s head. If he had one power, in that very instant he would have chosen it to be laser-beams blasting from his eyes.  


“This is what Ron and Hermione must have felt like,” he mused, always getting in trouble due to Scott’s initiation. “I never knew empathy until now.”  


The large library was empty, all except for a girl sitting in the last row. She had her thumb pressed against her lips, as she focused on the book before her eyes. She appeared nervous and maybe even upset.  


“That’s the hot new girl,” Stiles whispered none-too-quietly, nudging Scott in the ribs. “I wonder what she did to get thrown in the slammer with us.”  


Scott rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”  


It was pretty apparent that Scott had a school-boy crush on this new girl, Allison Argent. He would always look for her in the halls and seem relieved if she walked through the door to one of his classes. They had never spoken, however. Allison seemed painfully shy.  


Stiles and Scott took the long table in the second row.  


“How did Mama McCall take the news?” Stiles inquired, clumsily propping his feet up on the desk.  


“She was pissed, obviously.” Scott covered his face with both hands, the action smothering his grumbling. “She thinks it’s because I made the lacrosse team. She thinks I’m focusing on that instead of more _important_ things.”  


“At least your mom isn’t the Sheriff,” was Stiles’s sour response.  


The doors opening loudly made the boys jump. Stiles’s precise balance of his chair on the back two legs crashed down to the floor, his feet slipping off the desk surface.  


“I don’t know, all right, Jackson?” Lydia Martin walked through the doors as if she were proudly accepting the Miss USA sash, not walking into Saturday detention. Her cell-phone seemed glued to her cheek. “I’ll try and text you throughout the day. I doubt he’ll take our cell-phones, this isn’t the SATs.” Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she walked to the back of the room to sit in the desk to the front of Allison’s.  


Stiles’s gaze followed her like a willing magnet. Lydia had a knack for commanding the entire attention of the room. Her aggravated demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. She sent a flurry of sweet coos through the phone and sent a kiss.  


Stiles tried not to let his absurd singleness bother him.  


The double-doors opened once more with a hefty push, hitting the walls with a slight crash and bouncing off from the sheer force. Leather-clad arms were the first visible through the extravagant entrance. Stiles was not surprised to find Derek Hale on the other side.  


Derek’s scuffed combat boots sluggishly dragged through the aisle between the tables. The leather jacket made almost audible creaks with every movement. Dark aviators shielded his eyes, yet his angered eyebrows were visible nevertheless. He took the desk behind Scott and Stiles, loudly placing his feet on the desk.  


Stiles mused that it had taken him a few maneuverings to get the stance down properly. His chair had even wobbled. Yet, Derek effortlessly propped his feet up, crossed at the ankle, without shaking at all.  


“Nice to see you all show up.” Mr. Harris walked into the library with a smug look on his face. “Thank you for joining me on this lovely Saturday.” He was too satisfied.  


A scoff was audibly heard throughout the room.  


Mr. Harris narrowed his eyes behind his wiry spectacles. The drop of a pin could be heard on the opposite end of the library. “Have something to say, Derek?”  


Derek glanced up from his lap. “No, sir,” he responded with a wide-toothed grin. “Not at all.”  


“Let’s get something straight here,” Mr. Harris spoke to the entire room. “You are here because of me. You are here because you didn’t listen to me. You are here because you don’t know how to act in a school setting. You are here—”  


“We get it,” Derek interrupted. “We are here at your disposal, Mr. Harris. Do what you will.”  


“Take off your sunglasses, Hale,” snapped Mr. Harris.  


In a grand gesture, Derek took off his aviators and placed them gallantly on the desk. He kept his eyes trained on Mr. Harris the entire time in a silent challenge. “As you wish,” his mumble was only heard to Scott and Stiles.  


“You will not move from these seats for the next nine hours. You will not speak,” he looked pointedly at Scott and Stiles, “and you will not pass notes. You will not _text_ each other. Don’t even look at each other.” Mr. Harris’s finger pointed to the large clock behind him. “You will stay here from now, 7:00 A.M. to 4 P.M. No exceptions.”  


Stiles could not smother his whimper of disapproval. He covered it quickly with a cough as Mr. Harris’s evil eyes darted in his direction. “Just, uh, coughing,” he said, pounding lightly on his chest. “I’ve got a cold.”  


Mr. Harris pulled out a folder from the stack underneath his arm. He began passing out plain, white-lined paper to each student. 

“You will write a 1000-word essay in which you explain about yourselves and who you think you are. This better be completed by 4 o’clock.”  


“Fuck this,” Derek breathed, not bothering to cover it up with a cough.  


“I will be directly across the hall from you, so no funny business. I’ll be in to check on you.” Mr. Harris trailed his pointer-finger across the five glum faces like a scanner.  


Scott let out the breath he had seemingly been holding in. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “This guy’s the worst.”  


“No talking,” Stiles managed to speak out of the smallest corner of his mouth.


End file.
